Monday, August 31, 2009

adventure brewing

I sit here at 22:36 waiting for my 23:00 bus to arrive to take me to Mt. Sinai. The two to three hour bus ride will be my only real change to sleep tonight, as upon its arrival I will be undertaking my first night climb. The goal is to reach the summit for sunrise, which is supposed to be rather breathtaking. Devin will be coming with me for the climb, and there will be a guide to help us to find the trail to the 3,750 Steps of Repentance - carved into the stone by a monk as a form of penance - that will take us to the top. On top of this rather auspicious undertaking, Devin and I are also planning an even more audacious scheme, the details of which I am withholding for dramatic effect. For now, I simply ask for your well wishes as I attempt a nighttime desert accent on little sleep.

Sunday, August 30, 2009

under da sea

I'm currently sitting in the beachside lounge of the Red Sea Relax Resort, looking out over the muted nightlife of Dahab cove. Dahab sits a few checkpoint-elongated hours north of Sharm-el Shiek, the famous resort town of Sinai, now turned into a Las Vegas-esque morass of concrete and western culture. In contrast to its southern neighbor, Dahab has enjoyed a long tradition of being a tranqil backpacker haven, and while it has become more developed in the last decade, it still retains the relaxed environment and low-key vibe that made it famous. Of particular interest to SCUBA divers and windsurfers for its world-class reefs and consistent wind respectively, Dahab appeals to anyone wanting to take a break form the grind of Egypt without fully wrapping themselves in a cocoon of Western culture.


You've been warned.

The highlight of my day, and in fact one of the best experiences of my trip, was following the SCUBA divers underwater in a hour and a half long introductory session. After dawning a wetsuit and getting a brief lesson on the gear and technique, Devin and I strapped on SCUBA tanks and weights, and plodded our way out to sea. Slipping into some flippers and strapping on our masks, our first experience of diving underwater was simply submerging our heads and breathing through the regulator. While above water this makes you sound rather like Darth Vader, underwater the only thing you hear is the rush of bubbles with every exhale. Having thus mastered the technique of breathing underwater, we were guided down by our instructor into the deep. While I did not have much control over where I was going, as our instructor controlled our accent and decent, as well as steered us from above, the experience of breathing underwater was enough to make me want to get SCUBA certified. Of course, the added bonus was that we were diving in the Red Sea, which is renowned as one of the best places for underwater exploration in the world.

Those hills in the distance... Saudi Arabia.

I have been to the aquarium countless times, and have even joined my family in a sightseeing submarine trip, but the experience of SCUBA diving so vastly surpasses these interactions with marine life as to make them incomparable. We entered the reef through a school of shimmering silver spats, an aquatic confetti greeting us into a world I have only seen through the illustrations of books and five inches of fiberglass. The coral formed a wall of colorfully accented crevices, both amorphous and yet as rigid and immovable as the mountains. We swam with fish of such color as to redefine my impression of the palate of nature's paintbrush. Seeing such creatures through the vernier of illustration allows the mind to conceive of them with the disengaged appreciation befitting mythical creatures, but here these impossibly brilliant specimens casually float along with the current as they doubtless have for centuries.


Wearing a wetsuit and tank kind of makes you feel like a superhero.

When we finally resurfaced, both Devin and I were both bedazzled and anxious to pursue our SCUBA certification, though I think that's something I'll have to put off until I return home. We spent the rest of our day checking out some of the local restaurants - much less expensive than the seaside tourist joints - and planning our Mt. Sinai climb. Having secured ourselves an 18E£ bottle of the worst gin in the world from the first liquor store I've seen in Egypt, we enjoyed gin and tonics with a few rounds of pool, and relaxed at the seaside lounge once the sun had set.


If you look closely, you'll see that all the brands you think you know are actually just Egyptian knock-offs... "Fineland", "Johny Wader Black", etc.

I'm not usually one for the beach resort-esque vacation, but I have to say that it has been nice (and incredibly inexpensive for what we're getting) and I expect that it will get me back into form for some more rugged adventuring in the weeks ahead. For now, I'm off to bed, I've got a big day of snorkeling and postcard writing ahead of me.

Saturday, August 29, 2009

deLux update


17:27 28 August, On a bus leaving Luxor

After departing from the felucca, we boarded a minibus and headed for the temple of Komo Ombo. Komo Ombo sits at a bend in the Nile, which in ancient times was a popular spot for crocodiles to sun themselves. This naturally became a good site for the construction of a temple to Sobek, the crocodile god of Pharonic might. The temple was impressive, and the chance to walk around after having spent so much time on the felucca was welcome, but we only spent 30 minutes there before reboarding the minibus enrutie to the Temple of Horus at Edfu. Edfu blew Komo Ombo away The temple complex was huge, and because the entire temple had been buried in 20 meters of sand over the centuries, it was almost perfectly preserved. Where Komo Ombo had tall walls covered in reliefs, Edfu's walls went higher, and still supported a dizzingly high stone ceiling. The presence of an original roof made the indoor experience much more authentic, and visitors are able to see small holes cut into the ceiling in order to illuminate the interior.


A Horus falcon at Edfu Temple

Right before we were scheduled to return to the minibus, Devin and I came across a mysterious staircase leading down under the temple wall. Such a thing is of course impossible to leave unexplored, and so the two of us headed down into the relative darkness. Leveling out, we could see a dim green light in the distance and, having watched enough Indiana Jones movies to know what could be expected, I let Devin take the lead into the tunnel. My caution was rewarded when Devin stepped, not into a trap door, but rather a large pool of water. The tunnel had been flooded, and the light submerged underwater. I examined the passageway with my flashlight, and determined it to be impassable, and so with heavy hearts, the two of us made our way to the surface, Devin squishing with every step.

After a rather long, and donkey-cart impeded drive, we made it to Luxor in the early afternoon. The driver left us off in a rather questionable drop spot, and it took some time to find our hotel, but soon enough we were checking into the New Everest Hotel, and unpacking our things. Devin and Alissa were sharing a two bed room, while I had booked a single, which allowed me to spread out my things in an effort to repack. Luxor is divided into an east and west bank. The larger temples, museums, and the majority of the commercial development are on the East Bank, while the West Bank is home to the famous Valley of the Kings, as well as many other tombs and a smattering of temples.


A ridge on the West Bank that separates the Valley of the Kings from the Temple of Hatshepsut.

Our first stop was to be the Africa Restaurant, recommended to us by my friend and frequent visitor to Luxor: Katy Kobzeff. The owner, Mr. Ali, is a friend of Katy's, and she suggested that anything we needed to book while in Luxor could be set up by the Luxor native. Mr. Ali was not in when we first arrived at Africa, but we sat down to the most delicious meal I've yet had in my travels. Fresh vegetables, fried eggplant, sesame seed spread, pot-cooked chicken, slow-simmered beef, potatoes, and cooked vegetables, all perfectly seasoned and served in ample portions. By the time we finished our meal, Mr. Ali had returned to the restaurant, and we chatted and planned out our time in Luxor over fresh-squeezed lemon juice. I left the restaurant with the sense of relaxed contentment that can only come from a great meal and a firm plan.

We made our way back to the east bank to meet up with a women from New York who Alissa had befriended during our minibus ride around Upper Egypt. Our destination was a bar recommended by our guide book for having the cheapest bottles of Stella in town. We made a quick detour to an English-language bookstore for postcards and souvenirs, and then headed over the bar. On our way, we intercepted a group of Irish travelers that I had met on Buffalo Island, and so the eight of us - Devin, Alissa, the New Yorker, the four Irish kids, and myself - sat ourselves down for a cold glass of Stella. Except, it turned out that because it was Ramadan, there was no Stella. Disappointed, but determined to share in each others company, we all ordered sodas and fruit juice, and sat chatting for a good long while.

After finishing our drinks, we left the bar determined to find an establishment that served alcohol during the holy month. Our journey took us almost half an hour, and halfway out of town, but we found an eerily authentic English Pub serving an array of beer and spirits. I ordered a beer and a club sandwich, while Devin and Alissa opted to sample the local spirits - mediocre Ouzo and criminally bad Egyptian Brandy. We hailed a cab for the return trip, and everyone settled into bed foreseeing a big day ahead.


King Akenaten's head on King Henry VIII's body.

The next day, I woke up early, and hurried the others along to meet up with Mr. Ali on the west bank. We had planned to meet up at 7:00, but were almost half an hour late, a tardiness that was politely brushed off my the incredibly friendly Ali. Our first stop was the Valley of the Kings, that oft mentioned burial place of some of the most famous New Kingdom Pharaohs. A ticket allowed for entry to three tombs, and I'd like to think that we picked three winners. Skipping the most famous tomb of the boy king Tutankhamen - everything of interest was carted off to Cairo decades ago - we instead stopped at the tombs of Ramsis IX, as well as Thumosis III and VI. The Valley of the Kings was very tourist heavy, and somewhat vigilant "guards" - a misleading term that conjures up uniformed officials rather than apathetic locals lounging around, plying Westerners for baksheesh - made it difficult to engage in the popular practice of circumventing the "no pictures" policy.


The burial chamber of Ramsis IX.

Leaving the Valley of the Kings, we met up with Ali and were soon whisked away to the Temple of Hashepsut. Perhaps the most recognizable structure in Luxor, the Temple of Hashepsut was nevertheless a rather simple, if imposing, building. We lingered at the temple long enough to get a few pictures and get yelled at by a guard when, while exiting, we hopped over a small fence separating the bus park from the site.

At the Temple of Hatshepsut.

Our final stop for the day was the Tombs of the Nobles. The Tombs of the Nobles are some of the lesser visited sites on the west bank, despite being some of the most spectacular. None of the tour groups stop here, and the infrastructure is rather underdeveloped, but the tombs are stunning. Where the pharaohs were buried in limestone tombs, the mudbrick wallls of the Tombs of the Nobles have done a much better job of retaining the color of their original decoration. Ducking into the tomb of Senoffer, I thought a sheet had been used to cover the ceiling, before realizing that it was a perfectly preserved painted pattern of purple grapes. The tomb of Mena was, for me, an especially important stop as it was Katy's home away from home for many months spent painstakingly photographing every inch of the wall surface. Having seen these photographs on Katy's computer in Boston, it was a real joy to seem them in real life.

Welcome to the Tombs of the Nobles... it doesn't look like much, but there are wonders to behold under that sand.

Leopard print seems less tacky when you're wearing an actual leopard.

The grapes painted onto the ceiling were perfectly preserved.

I'm going to take a brake and see if I can get some sleep on the bus, I should have plenty of time to continue this update, as we'll be cruising for quite some time.


11:40 29 August, Still on the bus, going through Sinai

Jumping right back to where I left off...

Walking around the desert during the midday heat was enough to take it out of the three of us, and we were happy to hop into Ali's air conditioned car for the drive back to the Africa Restaurant. There he ordered us all a round of lemon juices, and chatted with us about what we had seen. As it was already midafternoon, and those of us who had eaten anything had not had much, we decided to take advantage of our location by ordering lunch at the Africa Restaurant. Once again, it was quite tasty, and after arranging to meet up with Ali the next morning for some more West Bank adventures, we boarded the ferry for the East Bank. Following the local example, we spent the rest of the afternoon lounging around, thinking cold thoughts. It wasn't until the sun was starting to set that we were back in action on the streets of Luxor. Our destination was the Temple of Luxor, which was both close to our hotel, and was open later than most similar temples.

This was the first temple I had been to at night, and they did a spectacular job of lighting it up. Because we were there so late, I hardly came across another visitor, improving the mystique of the experience. The temple was quite large, but my lasting memories of the place will undoubtedly come from its skillful illumination.

The avenue of the Sphinxes leading to Luxor Temple.

Ramsis II.

Luxor Temple was the last thing of note we did that day, though we did stop at McDonald's long enough to take advantage of their free WiFi and soft serve ice cream. The next morning, we found ourselves once again meeting up with Ali on the West Bank at 7:00 in the morning. This time, our first top was the Worker's Village, an archaeological site on an impressive scale. During their construction of the temples and tombs in the area, the laborers were provided with accommodations now in evidence in the form of the foundations of a congested village. There were also some small, but perfectly preserved tombs in the area, as well as a small temple. We had the site to ourselves, with the exception of the overanxious Egyptian supervisors, always happy to provide information, and occasionally bend the rules of the sites, in exchange for baksheesh.

After the Worker's Village, we were off to the Temple of... okay, I honestly can't remember. If you're getting a little overwhelmed with the names and descriptions of the temples and tombs, then you're probably feeling a little bit of the Pharonic fatigue that we were experiencing. I have never had such fantastic sites so readily available, and my attempts to connect with ancient Egypt in Boston's Museum of Fine Arts pale in comparison. Yet it seems that even these masterworks of cultural achievement are not immune to what economists would call: diminishing marginal utility. Whether you're eating potato chips, or visiting ancient tombs, the first one is incredibly satisfying, as are a certain number afterwards, but eventually you find yourself getting less and less enjoyment from each successive chip or temple. That is, unless you seriously kick it up a notch, and where FritoLays came up with flavored potato chips, the ancient Egyptians offer Karnak Temple.

Karnak Temple, which we visited early in the morning of our final day in Luxor, was spectacular. Built on a titanic scale, and added to over the centuries, Karnak Temple is the largest religious building in the history of the world, a distinction it has held for over two mellenia. Its great hall alone is large enough to fit The Vatican's St. Peter's and London's St. Paul's Cathedrals. The entire complex currently sits on over 100 acres of excavated land, though archaeologists have recently found evidence that Karnak Temple was linked to Luxor Temple, three kilometers to the south, by a paved road lined for its entire length with statues of sphinxes. There is really nothing that I can write, nor any picture I can take, to convey the overwhelming size of the site, and despite hearing such rhetoric for months before visiting, I was none the less awestruck. Like the Grand Canyon, Karnak Temple is one of the few sites in the world that does not disappoint.

Ramsis II, again.

The Great Hypostyle Hall in Karnak, the largest in the world, has 134 of these massive collumns.

At a certain time of the day, this single beam of light shines down and makes a perfect dot on the ground... remind you of any major motion pictures starring Harrison Ford?

Feeling adventurous.

Stairs leading up to the ruins of a shrine.

Unfortunately, we only had half a day to spend there, and in what can be read as yet another accolade to its size, the last two hours of my stay was spent looking for Alissa with Devin (a search which, in the end, was fruitless; we rejoined each other at the hotel). Devin and I were splitting up from Alissa in order to catch a bus to Dahab, on the Sinai Peninsula. Some of you geography buffs are propbably musing to yourselves: "Luxor to Sinai... isn't that a long way for a bus to go?". The answer is: yes, it's a wicked long way for a bus to go. As I write this, I'm passed hour 18 1/2. On the same bus. That does take into account one short stop for gas/Ramadan, but otherwise it's been a straight hall on a crowed Egyptian bus through the desert. I'm hoping that we make it to Dahab in the next half hour, rounding out the trip at an even 19 hours, but we'll just have to wait and see...


16:22 29 August, The Red Sea Resort

The bus ride did in fact take just over 19 hours, making it the longest haul I've ever undertaken. Even the plane from New Zealand to LAX should take less time. By the end of the ride, it was only Devin and I heading to Dahab, and when we finally arrived at the bus terminal we were mobbed by touts and cabbies. They outnumbered us a good 4 to 1, and we allowed one of them to direct us to his cab/pick-up truck for the short ride into town. Locating our accomodations proved trickier than we had expected, and we had to grab lunch at an overpriced seaside cafe advertising free WiFi before we worked everything out. While Devin and I will be sharing a room with four other people, dorm style, I feel safe saying that this is one of the nicest, if not the nicest place I've stayed so far. The dorm rooms are attached to a rather posh seaside resort with a swimming pool, bar, and lounge area all in the middle of the best part of town. Everything is so clean and nice that I'm having trouble believing I'm still in Egypt. Tomorrow, Devin and I are going to see about organizing an introductory SCUBA lesson, as the Red Sea has some of the best diving in the world. The rest of today is dedicated to recovering from the 19 hour bus ride, and the free billiards $2 beers and $3 cocktails should help.

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

further down the river


7:52 / 6:52 24 August, Buffalo Island

Right now I'm sitting on the gangplank of our felucca, listening to the waves roll in off the river as the captain finishes making tonight's dinner. My last two days have been spent cruising down the Nile on a felucca, reading, reflecting, and generally relaxing. We left Aswan yesterday at noon (or perhaps at 11:00, depending on if you're on RLS, Ramadan Light Savings) with Captain Fanan and his trusty first mate. A felucca is a single sailed ship, usually around 10 meters long, with a wide, open deck. The deck is cushioned, and a cloth is hung about a meter high to provide shade to the passengers. The full compliment of our felucca is six passengers: Devin, Allisa, two Spaniards, a girl from Japan, and myself; as well as three crew: Captain Fanan, his co-captain, and the first mate. Making one's way down the Nile in a felucca is a process of serpentining from bank to bank against the perpetual headwind that blows against the flow of the current. Meals are prepared for us by the crew, and have thus far consisted of simple but tasty Nubian fare.


Water buffalo grazing by the banks.

Local fisherman plying the waters.

The first day we lazily made our way past palms and date trees, making a few stops before mooring for the night with a few other feluccas. One of these feluccas was weighed down by a plethora of noisy Brits, whose obnoxious behavior and general reinforcement of negative stereotypes of Western tourists does not deserve further mention. With no electricity, we stayed up playing cards by candlelight for a while before slumping off to bed.

Sunrise on the Nile.

The next morning I woke before my fellow passengers, and quietly slipped aft to watch the sun rise over the Nile. By the time the sun had climbed to four times its height, everyone onboard had shaken off their sleep, and we sat and chatted while breakfast was prepared. Eating at an unrushed pace, the crew were equally unhurried in their efforts to cast off, but eventually we were back on the river. I took advantage of one of our stops to collect some desert glass that had been smoothed by the current of the Nile, pretty neat stuff. During another stop I followed the first mate into town to collect provisions, and I was able to off load a number of pens that I had brought along with me as gifts to the local children. Before leaving, I had read that children in Egypt really like pens, and so my mother and I had purchased a whole mess of them, which I have been toting around the world in the hopes that the rumors were true. My hopes were not disappointed as I am now down to a scant few having been mobbed by the local children whose smiling faces proved irresistible.

Tonight it looks as though we'll be congregating with some less irritating tourists, whose feluccas are also moored here on Buffalo Island (so named by yours truly) and then sleeping under the stars.

Saturday, August 22, 2009

hot times, high dam

It seems that the post I made yesterday is only showing up today, so be aware that there is a rather large post on Cairo that precedes this update from Aswan.

I'm sitting in a McDonald's not only because it's the only reliable source of free WiFi in Aswan, but also because it's the only reliable source of safe food. I arrived here in Aswan three days ago on the overnight train from Cairo. Lumbering off the train at 11:00, I was able to make it to my hostel with little incident. My room was large, dirty, and cheap, with no air conditioning and probably more than a few insects. But this is southern Egypt, and for the price, 14E£, I wasn't expecting the Ritz. However, when I got back to the hostel office there were two other Americans how were also looking for a room. I ended up switching my room so that I could share a (mostly) clean three bedroom space with (gasp!) air conditioning. Because the three of us were sharing the room, I was actually paying less, 12E£, per night than I had been, and with the added benefit of travel companions for Aswan, it's hard to complain about accommodations that convert to a two night cost of $4.

Spices on display at the souq (the market).

The three of us, Alissa, Devin, and myself, got acquainted in the room, relaxing in the air conditioning for a couple hours, before heading into town. We went through the market making a few small purchases, and constantly keeping our eyes open for peanut butter, which Alissa and Devin had been desperately hoping to find. I was with them, as peanut butter is quite the slice of Americana, not to be found outside the States with only a few notable exceptions. The peanut butter search was unsuccessful, though we did catch the sunset over the Nile, which was cool. The air quality of Aswan is incomparably better than Cairo, so walking around was nice. We headed back to the hostel when it got dark, making our way past women crowding the grocery stores and meat sellers in preparation for Ramadan. The holy month began the next day, and we were anxious to get to bed in order to wake up early. Our early rising had less to do with religious observance, and more to do with catching a police convoy heading south to Abu Simbel.

I wasn't really feeling the Nubian hat that was forced on to my head by an over anxious shopkeeper.

Sunset on the Nile.

The convoy left at 3:30 in the morning, so we were all up at 3:00 and after watching a bizarre American drama in the common room while waiting for the minibus, we were soon climbing on board. The convoy took a while to assemble, but eventually the long line of minibuses and their larger brothers were on the 4 hour road to Abu Simbel. Abu Simbel is the site of the Great Temple of Ramses II, which (even more than the Pyramids), was the thing I most wanted to see in Egypt. Pictures of the four (three and a half) massive figures carved into the side of a mountain have always impressed me, and actually visiting the site was incredible. The inside of the temple is almost as impressive as its iconic facade. I've only ever come across full rooms of carved and painted hieroglyphics at Boston's MFA, where two small rooms recreate a tomb from the Upper Kingdom. Here in the great temple, a massive space had been carved into the mountain, and the walls were filled with glyphs surrounding images of the Pharaohs and the gods. I found myself falling victim to the awe that these figures were intended to inspire, and I was satisfied to just look up at these colossi in wonder.

Outside the Great Temple of Ramses II.

Four great kings of Egypt sat facing the southern boarder of the kingdom as a warning to would-be invaders.

When we the time came to regroup at the minibus, I reluctantly headed out toward the parking lot, and got aboard. We retraced the four hour road back to Aswan, making our way through the barren desertscape on a surprisingly well-paved road. Our next stop was the Aswan High Dam. The High Dam, despite being a public works triumph, is not that impressive to look at. So Alissa, Devin, and I preferred not to be taken advantage of by the ticket agency, and together with the majority of our minibus opted out of the High Dam. We soon rejoined the rest of the group on the minibus and headed for the Temple of Isis. Located on an island that, until the construction of the High Dam, was subject to yearly flooding, the Temple of Isis is a fascinating complex of buildings that can be explored without much restriction. Getting there was, like everything else in Egypt, a big hassle, as one has to rent a large 20-person motor boat to reach the island. After waisting 30 minutes bartering with the "captains" we finally got to the island and had a chance to explore.

Approaching from the river.

The temple complex was nearly complete, not bad for a 3,000 year-old ruin.

Inside, many of the images and hieroglyphics were in relief, meaning that they had to be carved from the wall, rather than into it.

Columns in a state of near-perfect preservation.

We had nowhere near enough time to fully explore the site, which I saw as the perfect place for a small camping night on the Nile. Not since I was young, and exploring the unrestricted inner workings of the Battleship Massachusetts did I feel so able to authentically interact with a site. It was wicked cool. But we had to get back on the boat, and back to the minibus, which took us back into town and dropped us off by the train station. Alissa, Devin, and I got dinner at a "pizza" joint that served delicious Egyptian-style pizza for 20 E£ a pie. It was a tasty dinner, though I soon found that Tutankhamen had not released his grip, and I ended in the same McDonald's I now find myself patronizing eating a chicken ceasar salad. It was a really great day, and we all got to bed at a reasonable hour.

Today, now that I'm wrapping up my McMorning, we're hoping to make it out to Elphantine island, and I need to find a feluca to take me north to Luxor. The feluca, the classic large single-sailed boats of the Nile, could be a little tricky, and I'm not sure how it's going to work out. Ideally, I could get a boat for the full 2 night journey to to just before Luxor, but it's looking like Ramadan may make that kind of arrangement more difficult. Anyway, I'm setting out now to try my luck with the feluca captains. One way or another, my next update will be from Luxor.

pigeons and pyramids



10:18 20 August, The Oriental Express

Picking up where I left off, I really enjoyed the museum and I lingered there until it closed (near close, with hardly any other people, was probably the most enjoyable time to explore) and then headed back to the apartment. There I received a call from Benden on a loaned cell phone, and after writing down travel directions on the Cairo Metro, I was soon making my way toward his place of employment. The Cairo Metro is the one shining beacon of hope for Egyptian public infrastructure. It is, comparatively, clean and efficient, and costs only 1E£ for a ticket. As I was only going one stop, the trickiest part was finding the correct train and boarding it, and having accomplished both I was soon speeding under the streets of Cairo.

Brenden works for an agency that assists refugees with resettlement. Lately, this has been primarily geared towards getting displaced Iraqis from Cairo, where they have temporary asylum, to the United States. Iraqis who have assisted Coalition Forces in the Iraq War are entitled to an expedited resettlement process, but the forms are often complicated enough to undermine their resettlement. That's where Brenden's agency comes in, writing appeals, drafting statements, and generally doing what they can to help. Having met up with him in the small office based in the St. Andew's Church compound, we were joined by another of his coworkers and all three of us headed out. Our destination, which we reached after a short, though manic 5E£ cab ride, was a roofdeck bar/Thai restaurant. Restaurants and bars in close proximity to each other often collude to allow patrons to order a wider variety of food and drink at a fixed price. We were later joined, first by Mohamed - an Iraqi refugee currently living in Cairo who works/is getting assistance from Brenden's agency, and later by more friends and coworkers. The roofdeck offered a great view out over the Nile, and while the beer (Stella) was just as bad as before, the Thai food was quite good.

How to Red/Green a classy Egyptian sound system: cut a hole in a cassette player, put in a computer's CD drive, plug the speakers into the headphone jack, and dance the night away (if the Egyptian women don't find you handsome, they should at least find you handy.)

Brenden suggested that we walk back to give me a feel for what Cairo is like at 1:30 "down by the river", and so the two of us made our way across the bridge in the direction of the apartment. Unlike New York, Paris, or any other huge city I've ever been to, Cairo is surprisingly safe even very late at night. In these wee hours of the morning, families with small children were walking along the banks of the Nile, or enjoying a picnic in the grass. Merchants were peddling wares, while groups of young men - who in other cities would been seen as gangs - laughed and joked while spraying each other with shaving cream. The normality of an afternoon in the city was here on display passed midnight, and the experience was very surreal.

The next morning, I had planned to accomplish some housecleaning efforts. I had laundry that I probably should have done a week ago, I wanted to pick up enough bottled water to get me through Cairo, and I needed to get a train ticket for the overnight train from Cairo to Aswan. Instead, I accomplished almost nothing. This wasn't entirely from not trying. After Brenden and I finsihed a breakfast of fresh strawberry juice and koshery - basically spaghetti, macaroni, lentils, and more carbohydrates mixed together with a sauce - he gave me instructions on how to get to the laundrymat. I so fantastically misinterpreted these directions that I spent the better part of two and a half hours wandering around Cairo (the laundrymat, it turns out, was right across the street). Having this hauled my dirty laundry all over town in my backpack (a quick word about backpacks: Egyptians don't wear them, so with the exception of shorts and a Hawaiian shirt, there's few things that make you look more like a tourist) I abandoned my efforts and returned to the apartment. I made an effort to figure out train times and tables, as well as research Egypt in general, but I never quite made it to the train station. I was successful on the bottled water front, procuring not only enough water to last me through Cairo, but also "milk", bananas, and bread.

When Brenden came back from work, we headed into town to for dinner, and one of the more unforgettable experiences of my trip. From the beginning of my trip, I have been doing my best to sample the eccentricities of the local cuisine in the places I visit. In Iceland it was rotten shark, in Egypt it was pigeon. Cairo is the first major city I've ever been to where there aren't any pigeons, and it would seem that this is the case because the Egyptians eat them. If your stomach is already starting to turn, then I seriously suggest that you skip the rest of this paragraph, and the next paragraph, and meet up with me in my discussion of Islamic Cairo. For those brave enough to continue reading, allow me to stake the pigeon eating experience up a notch. Brenden and I sat down, and promptly had two pigeons placed in between us. It was easy to tell they were pigeons because aside from the feet, the beak, the eyes, and the feathers, everything was still intact sitting there boiled, grilled, and stuffed in front of me. The fact that the pigeons have been boiled is an important fact to keep in mind as I retell Brenden's explanation for eating pigeon. "There are two ways" he said, with a semi-fiendish glint in his eye, "of eating pigeon. There's the American way, which is to treat it much like a Cornish Game Hen, but this is bespoiled by the fact that there is very little meat on the pigeon. Then," he continued picking up his pigeon, "there's the Egyptian way, which is just to eat the pigeon whole." My expression of incredulity dropped to one of mild disgust.

Somehow I don't see KFP (Kentucky Fried Pigeon) taking off in the States.

Suggesting that he may just be kidding me, Brenden proceeded to prove both his point, and his mastery of Egyptian dining by biting the head off the pigeon, boiled skull and all, and suggesting that it tastes a lot like liver. Disgusted, but determined to have the local experience, and with Brenden video taping the experience, I took a deep breath and bit the head off the pigeon. The taste was not that bad, but the psychological difficulties involved in the proper mastication of pigeon head made it a culinary experience I cannot see myself repeating. I ate the rest of the pigeon in the American style, and we were soon off to Islamic Cairo.

Having made it to Islamic Cairo, for those of you just rejoining me, Brenden suggested a good place in the Bazaar to try sheshaw and tea, and we languished there taking in the sights. Soon we were making our way through the ancient and colorfully illuminated mosques that dotted this part of the city. "Shookran", literally meaning "thank you" but colloquially meaning "no thanks", and "la la la", a light way of saying "no", where phrases that acted as my sword and shield against the invasive approach of shopkeepers and touts. We tried some cane juice - simply sugar cane, ground and squeezed - which pretty much tastes like sugar water with a hint of grass, before catching a cab back to the apartment. An early bedtime was a welcome treat, and I was soon sound asleep.

The mosques of Islamic Cairo.

Until 3:30. At about that time I experienced the first of the hellish cramps that would become the precursor to an inevitable trip to the bathroom. Since then I've been inflicted with what I'm referring to, in tribute to Mexico's famous Montezuma's Revenge, "Tutankhamen's Revenge". Trying to not allow the minor inconvenience of being unable to eat keep me from accomplishing the housekeeping activities I had attempted yesterday, I headed out around noon. I dropped my laundry off at the laundry mat, surprised by the 80E£ cost of what amounted to a single load. I then allowed myself to be ripped off by a cab driver on my way to the train station, went through the hassle of buying a ticket, and fought traffic back to the apartment. I had been looking for post cards for some time, and when a shopkeeper claimed to have them, I decided to follow him into his store. The shopkeeper, who introduced himself as "Moses", did in fact have postcards, from (I'm just guessing here) the early 1980's. Some employed a combination of bad photography and bright colors while others just opted to slap some WordArt over a picture of the pyramids. But I was desperate. So I selected the 10 that I found least offensive to the senses, and they were quickly wrapped up for me. That's when the tea came out. Tea is a common offering of shopkeepers hoping to keep tourists lingering in their stores, as refusing it is culturally impolite. Moses proved himself a master shopkeeper, sitting me down and chatting me up about my family while I drank the tea. At this point I was feeling rather ill and desperate to finish the tea and leave. With my defenses down, Moses struck, and under the auspices of fatherly concern for my skin (which was soon to be exposed to the Aswan heat) he poured me a bottle of oil for which he then proceeded to charge me 120E£. It's difficult to explain how he managed to pass this off on me, but I left the shop knowing that I had been properly fleeced.

After picking up my immaculately folded laundry, I spent the rest of the day doing my best not to move. Reading and playing computer solitaire, I managed to kill the daylight hours before falling asleep early.


Looking out on the Nile during the day of pain.

The next day I wasn't feeling much better, but because it was my last in Cairo I was determined to see the one thing I had not yet been to: the Pyramids. In the morning, I said my goodbyes to Brenden, who wouldn't be back from work before I left for the train station. After thanking him for all his hospitality, I hailed a cab and headed for Giza.

There are two things that visitors to the Pyramids need to know. The first is that the site has been completely corrupted by touts for hundreds of years. There are even Roman accounts of visiting the Pyramids and being hassled to no end by the locals. Two-thousand years later, not much has changed; camel drivers follow you around shouting out prices for a ride regardless of expressed interest, and trinket sellers literally throw their products on you then demand payment. My visit was the only occasion I have found myself using the aggressive form of "no": "La'Ah!", and I witnessed many Western tourists loosing their tempers admits the onslaught of touts bearing down from all sides.

The second thing that visitors to the Pyramids need to know is that they absolutely take your breath away. If you can remove yourself from the touts long enough to gaze up a the grandeur of ancient Egypt on a massive scale, you can't help but be overwhelmed. The towering colossi of the three Pyramids, the enigmatic figure of the Sphinx, and the ruins surrounding the site are images so familiar to Western eyes through pictures and film. Yet to stand there in the shadow of 40 centuries of history, looking up at these massive blocks stacked one on top of each other, and marvel that these man-made mountains have given a skyline to the desert since the beginning of premodern time... that makes it all worth while.

Feeling rather Indian Jones-esque.

Looking down into a rather deep pit.

At the main gate, I defacto bribed one of the men at the ticket counter to sell me an early ticket to enter the Great Pyramid. These tickets usually only go on sale at 1:30, but since I got mine early I was basically the first person to begin the tricky ascent into the heart of the pyramid - a preeminence that can be appreciated when one considers their experience I'm about to describe with the addition of the long line of tourists that would later form. After walking down a long, dimly-lit hallway cut horizontally into the pyramid, I encountered a 1x1 meter shaft ascending at a 35 degree angle for as far as I could see. The shaft had been reinforced with wooden braces that served as steps, facilitating a hunched climb upwards. The shaft opened up to a large diagonally ascending room - "the King's Hall" - built 10 meters tall by stacking massive blocks of granite in such a way that the width of the hall narrowed as it approached the ceiling. Climbing up, I was amazed at the grout-free masonry, exact to the millimeter, that held the stones together. Finally at the top, I hunched down into the royal burial chamber, now completely stripped of its decoration. The only thing disrupting the powerfully simple pattern of smooth black granite is a damaged sarcophagus, originally housing the remains of the Pharaoh. Though unadorned, the chamber is still incredible for its construction and history, and the overall experience of climbing into the Great Pyramid was unforgettable.

The Sphinx, wicked cool.


It doesn't get much more Egyptian than that.

Soon after leaving the pyramid, I accidentally spent around half an hour wandering around a restricted archaeological site (I only saw the signs when I was leaving the area, though I suppose the exposed 15 meter-deep pits should have clued me on to fact that this wasn't a touristy area).


Me in the semi-restricted area... oops.

I left the site and the Pyramids, and made my way down into Giza, where I stopped at a Mobil On-the-Go station. This may seem weird/pathetic, but this little piece of America, with its air conditioning, friendly staff, and (gasp!) items with actual price labels was just what I needed. Leaving I hailed a cab back to the apartment, unhappily reentering the world of modern Egypt with a 40E£ cab ride. I packed up my things, and got in touch with my parents before hailing yet another cab - whose skills and patience made him worth the 10E£ extra I paid above the normal 20E£ rate - to the train station. There I met a British family, traveling through Egypt on their summer holiday. When our train finally arrived, I joined mom, dad, and their three daughters in the club car for light refreshments before heading off to bed. Tomorrow, I'll be sure to update with my experiences thus far in southern Egypt, but for right now I need a good night's sleep for second, and last, night in Aswan.

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

welcome in egypt

Before I get started, the title of my blog is the all too common way that a tout will introduce themselves to you, and has become a kind of an inside joke amongst the expat community. Anyway, I'm wrapping up my last day in Cairo - in 30 minutes I need to catch a taxi to the train station for my overnight train to Aswan - and I have to say that I'm pleased with what I've managed to accomplish over the last four days.

When I landed, I was prepared for a battle with the cab drivers on the fare into town. Taxis in Egypt are cheap by Western standards, but because drivers see Westerners as little more than money bags with legs, they do everything they can to take advantage of their naivete and lack of haggling skills. After working at it for a while, I managed to make it into town in a rusted out Peugeot for around the upper range of the reasonable price - 65E, about $13 - and after spending another 10E£ on a 30 second phone call from the prestigious Semiramis Intercontinental Hotel, I met up with my friend Brenden. Brenden studied abroad in Cairo, and now finds himself back here for Co-Op, and he was nice enough to offer me a spare room in his gigantic apartment. An apartment this size, in what is one of the nicest parts of Cairo, would probably cost upwards of $12,000/month in Boston (size and location accounted for). Instead, I think he's paying somewhere below $900/month, split four ways. Still, for the pollution and the constant harassment of Westerners, no price is low enough for me to imagine living here.

Anyway, I set myself up, before heading out into town with Brenden to meet up with some of his coworkers. On the way we picked up some Falafal (my first experience with this famous Middle Eastern export) as well as what I'm calling "Bean Paste in Pita". Both were quite tasty, and for 5E£ for four, even McDonalds can't beat a $0.50 meal (especially here in Egypt, but that's another story). We met up with Brenden's coworkers in a part of town famous for its cafes dolling out plenty of tea and sheshaw (the Egyptian Water Pipe) to the old men immersed in their backgammon. The occasion for our gathering was to say goodbye to Ahmed, one of the guys Brenden was working with. Ahmed was leaving the next day for America, where he would rejoin his wife (who he hasn't seen in three years) in Detroit. It was a really good introduction to authentic modern Egyptian culture, and I stayed up late into the night gradually getting better at backgammon.

Before the night was over, I was taken to one of the local drinking establishments were I experienced Stella (not to be confused with the similarly-spelled Belgian: Stella) which is most definitely the worst beer in the world. Next, it was on to the rooftops of Cairo to look out at the chaotic morass churning below us, before giving into Americana (and hunger) with a visit to Hardee's for double cheeseburgers. The "night" finally came to a close with the 5:15 call to prayer.

The next day Brenden took me to try some more local delicacies, before heading off to work at noon (which is just something that people do here in Egypt.) I spent the rest of the daylight hours at the Egyptian National Museum. The Museum is world-renowned both for the volume of its Ancient Egyptian collection, and for the disorganized manner in which it is presented. Wooden boxes with priceless artifacts are wedged between glass display cases whose labels were clearly written on a 1920's era typewriter. The floorplan is sound, but the arrangement of the pieces often leads visitors seeking to see everything into a hedge maze-esque experience. Pharaoh-overload is a common diagnosis for the lethargic Westerners slumped on the staircases, and guided tours crowd out the most important pieces.


Taking it easy with a Sphinx outsite the museum... no camera were allowed inside.


But for all of this, I thought it was great. The disorganization that so many find frustrating felt, to me, authentic. It was like going through a collection of artifacts freshly shipped over on a turn-of-the-century steamer. Indiana Jones, arguing with the curator about the presentation of a piece he had just recovered, would seem perfectly in place with the surroundings. And there's nothing like a 110 kilogram solid-gold sarcophagus to shake you out of Pharaoh-overload. Tutankhamen's treasures, which I have seen so often in just about every book ever illustrated on Egypt, were unforgettable to come across in person.

Unfortunately, I'll have to leave it off there. There's much more to write about Cairo, but I'm already 15 minutes over my time allotment, and I need to catch a train to Aswan. I'll be sure to finish this as soon as I have an Internet connection!

Sunday, August 16, 2009

the third continent


19:50 16 August, Garden City Cairo

Cairo. Where to begin? It was only as I was descending over this largest city in Africa that I truly appreciated the size of the city. Leaking out from the Nile, Cairo is a city of the West Coast, urban sprawl variety. Its 6.8 million residents are squeezed into 214 square kilometers, making it the 4th most densely populated place on Earth (New York City, by comparison, affords its 8.3 million residents over 1,200 square kilometers). Another dubious honorific held by the capital of Egypt is its distinction as being the city with the worst air pollution in the world. Spending 10 minutes outside is enough to keep anyone from contesting this claim. Walking around, you can literally feel what the World Bank's 2008 report classified as "undissolved solids", especially in your eyes. Everything, indoors and out, will acquire a layer of dust within 24 hours of being cleaned, and this becomes especially obvious when washing your hands, face, and hair. Crossing the street involves playing a game of real-life Frogger, as cars whizzing by will not stop, and instead swerve dangerously and unpredictably in a half-hearted attempted to avoid hitting you directly. It is hot, and showering and thus use of deodorant is seemingly a phenomenon exhibited only by the Western tourists. The touts are aggressive, and the din of honking horns and city activity never stops, but at the same time, it's all enjoyable in a way I have difficulty explaining.


Looking out from my friend's apartment at the Nile at night.

The way of life is by far the most foreign I've ever experienced. Things are laid back, yet can burst into a hectic whirl at a moment's notice. There is an appeal to the city that one must visit to appreciate. While I could never, never, live here - mostly because of the pollution, and the strain on a New Hampshire-based political career - I'm glad to be spending four nights in the city.

Garden City Cairo by day. The trees you see are a phenomenon that exist only in this part of the city.

I'll have more on Cairo, and the adventures I've had since stepping off the plane 26 hours ago, but for right now, I need to head back into the mayhem and see if I can navigate my way on the only metro system on the African Continent.


13:49 15 August, Egypt Air Flight 738

There are those who have suggested that given the summer heat in the desert, I have chosen a poor time to visit Egypt. True, the mercury rarely drops below 45 degrees centigrade, and is usually well above 50 in Luxor and most of Southern Egypt. True, I am a northerner, adapted to deal with cold much better than heat. True, I insisted on wearing jeans when we visited the Grand Canyon, and can therefore be counted on for making bad decisions. But that my stop by Egypt just happened to coincide with some of the hottest temperatures I'll ever have experienced was a chance happening that I'm determined to make the best of. However, I've just learned that my timing will expose me to more than just the sweltering summer heat. Because of the arrangement of the Muslim calender, I will be entering Egypt just as the holy month of Ramadan begins.

Ramadan, the ninth month in the Muslim calender, is a time of fasting and reflection. Families gather together and fast during the daylight hours in order to, according to the explanations I've been given, appreciate the suffering of those who are without. What this means to me is that shops, business, and especially restaurants will either be closed, or have limited hours. While the summer months usually keep tourist levels low in Egypt, the combination of the heat and the holiday are expected to bring tourism in the country to a 20 year low. On the plus side, this will mean that the sites should be far less crowded, and I may get better deals on hotels and accommodations. I'll just have to wait and see.

Friday, August 14, 2009

turkish delight


Night has crept over the Bosphorus, and right now I'm looking out over the black waters, reflecting the light from buildings on the other shore. Istanbul, a late arrival to my list of destinations, has more than matched my expectations. Coming here for the Byzantine History, I also embraced the Turkish Culture that defines this city at the intersection of two continents.


Istanbul in flower.

When the train finally arrived at the station yesterday, three and a half hours late, I gathered into a protective cocoon with some of my fellow English-speaking passengers. Together, we navigated our way into town, before going our separate ways. My hostel is, as most hostels and hotels are, in Sultanahmet, the tourist section of Istanbul. Defined most prominently by the Blue Mosque and the Hagia Sophia. Sultanahmet is densly populated with camera-wielding foreigners and the touts that prey on them. I cannot count the number of times I've been approached by a smiling Turkish man who offers a "Hello my friend" before enquiring as to my nationality and my opinion of Istanbul. Most of these people are just trying lure you into a rug store, or a dinner joint, and my initial reaction was just to ignore them. However, as I got used to the approach and the tactics, I would often engage the touts, politely but firmly turning down their offers to "get some great deals on carpets". The touts are generally good about acknowledging these dismissals, and maintain a friendly and polite attitude.

My first stop in Istanbul was the Blue Mosque. Formally known as the Sultan Ahmed Mosque, it is the national mosque of Turkey, and one of only two mosques with six minarets - the obelisk-esque towers surrounding mosques from which the faithful are called to prayer. This extravagance was seen as looked on as presumptive, as only the Ka'aba in Mecca had as many minarets. The Sultan of Turkey addressed this by paying for the construction of a seventh minaret at the Mecca mosque, which obviously removed any stigma of over-excess from the mosque's construction. It is a very impressive building, taking most of its architectural inspiration from the neighboring Hagia Sophia. Unlike the older building however, the Blue Mosque continues to be used for religious services, during which tourists are discouraged from entering.


The view from the Hagia Sophia, with the Blue Mosque in the background.

After leaving the Blue Mosque, I spent some time looking around Istanbul before finally making my way to the Art & Archaeological Museum. While the overall presentation of the museum was very impressive, I was a little disappointed by the limited Byzantine offerings. Rather heel-sore after walking around all day, I made my way back from the museum to the hostel, where I had signed up for a Turkish Barbecue.


Byzantine Emperor Valantinian II, a quite forgetable emperor

I headed up to the roof terrace, which overlooks a fantastic view of the Bosphorus and the Blue Mosque, and there I proceeded to acquaint myself with all the English speakers I could find. Before the night was over, I had lost 3 games of backgammon to a girl from Canada, quizzed a group of Israelis on "Level B" English words (those, according to their upcoming exam that are somewhat challenging), and argued the impact of the European Parliament with some guys from the Netherlands. As the evening wound down, I was left chatting with the two Canadian girls and a handful of the Israelis that had fallen asleep. All in all, a good night, though I need to work on my backgammon game.

Watching the moon rise over the Bosphorus.

The next morning was dedicated to Byzantine history. After grabbing breakfast, I set off for the Hagia Sophia. The Turkish Government allows its citizens to visit the church, turned mosque, turned museum, for free. Foreigners, regardless of student status, have to pay a rather hefty entrance fee, but I would have endured half a month of indentured servitude if it meant getting into the building I had learned so much about. It was incredible. Unrivaled in its own time, even stripped of its gold mosaics and decoration, the vastness of the interior is enough to overwhelm the modern visitor. I lingered there for a long while, examining every nook and crannie, appreciating some of history behind the few remaining mosaics. Eventually, I headed back out to the streets of Istanbul, on my way to the Cisterns.


The Hagia Sophia, the Holy Wisdom, the heart of the Byzantine Empire.

Naturally, there was construction going on, but it almost helps you to appriciate the size of the space.

That's the Empress Irene on the right, farther right (not in the pciture) is the immiage of her son, who she would go on to blind so brutilly that it killed him.

Like the Hagia Sophia, the Cisterns of Istanbul were constructed by the Byzantine Emperor Justinian in the 6th Century A.D. Famous for their use of classical Roman Medusa heads, turned upside down and placed as stands for the columns to show their impotency in the new Christian state, the Cisterns are equally inspiring and eiry. Originally used to store water within the city, the space has now been drained so that only a meter of water covers the surface, leaving exposed hundreds of illuminated columns supporting the vast subterranean space.

I believe there's 196 of these collums spread out over the space of the Cistern.
Align Center
Take that you symbol of the pagen gods!

Leaving the Cisterns, I headed back to the hostel to transition to an afternoon spent exploring Turkish Culture. In a kind of baptism of fire, my first experience was the Grand Bazaar, a collection of the 500 most invasive shopkeepers you will ever come across. It was a heck of an experience, and though I came out of it with no purchases (in my one attempt to buy a tiger tooth, I was unable to talk to storekeeper down from the $100 asking price) I did manage to hold onto my wallet in the famously pickpocket-friendly bazaar. Carrying on with the Turkish experience, I stopped in a bakery to try some Turkish Delight and Baklava. The former was nothing like what I would have expected, and the latter was - here it is, for the record - better than its Greek variant.

Departing from my pastry-heavy lunch, I went into one of the rug store to enquire about the purchase of a rug. Even if you don't intend to buy a rug, haggling with the Turkish salesmen is a unique experience, and I would recommend giving it a try. If nothing else, the experience may help to prepare me for everyday interactions in Egypt. I next made my way to the famous Spice Bazaar, where saffron and rosewater perfumed the air of the indoor market. Strands of spices hung over their ground variants, sharing counter space with all manner of sweets and dried fruits. In addition to its spices and sweets, the Spice Bazaar is also famous for its excellent deals on Russian and Iranian caviar. I made some inqueries at one of the stands, and found that the rumours were in fact true, and I was soon presented with an array of caviar. I had hoped to be able to purchase only enough to sample, but this was unfortunately not possible; and while the deals were very good, I was not about to spend the equivalent of $90 on a 200 gram jar of caviar, even if such a jar would cost upwards of $750 in the United States.


The Spice Bazaar.

Instead, I bought more Turkish Delight, the consumption of which is probably to blame for my current stomach discomfort, some dried fruit, a glass of pomegranate juice, and cooked corn, which seems like a rather popular snack in this part of the world. Making my way back to the hostel, I lingered for a while getting things in order before stopping by Sultanahmet to photograph the now illuminated Blue Mosque and Hagia Sophia. I shook off some persistent touts before making it back to the hostel, where I plan to spend a relaxing evening, that I might wake up early enough to see the sun come up over the Bosphorus. We'll just have to see how that goes.